Where the sea meets the land in the northeast corner of the Pacific Ocean, there exists a point of geographic and climatic confluence. At this place, mid-oceanic swells, having built up heads of steam during an eastward migration from the Aleutian Islands, crash into beaches of rock and sand, throwing salt spray into the rain forests at their margins. It is a place defined by water, where oceanic air meets the mountains growing out of the coastal forests, cools, and falls to Earth in quantities sufficient to send Noah to the shipyard. It is a place grown of pressure and fire, where the mountains cascading into the ocean wear craters on their summits, tipping their hands to their volcanic history. It is a place of sufficient latitude that in the winter those craters and their flanks are shrouded in snow, but at lower elevations the maritime influence causes the watersheds to rage with melt. It is a place of biogeoclimatic diversity, a place of beauty, a place of profound outdoor opportunity. It is a place of alchemy.
At its best, it is a place called Vancouver Island.
Across the Strait of Georgia, the metropolitan gem City of Vancouver draws deserving tourism industry attention through its natural assets and the gravity of its size. It is indeed a place where, as the propaganda heralds, you can golf in the morning and ski in the afternoon. With a little extra effort and creativity you could even add to your day’s activities, all within view of the city skyline. But what if you wanted to do even more; to see less of urbanity; to travel sunrise-to-sunset, sea to mountain to ocean, bagging outdoor activities as you traversed one of the planet’s most diversity-concentrated landmasses?
You would introduce yourself to Vancouver Island.
Then you would look for a weather and conditions window in the spring, gather up a friend or two and a whole bunch of gear, and take the golf-and-ski-in-a-day dream and bump it up a notch – or four – and spend a day completing a six-sport microadventure traverse across this island of outdoor opportunity. You would start with a stand-up paddle at dawn on the east coast; cross the island with stops to mountain bike, trail run, back-country ski and rock climb; and when you reached the west coast, end your day with a surf as the sun descends into the sea.
And you would call that day: tomorrow.